Wonderland
by amberpire
Summary: - the desire twisted in his own chest, in the cavity he had already torn open and sewed shut, the incredible urge to peel back her shell and see the pearls inside. ;Stein/Maka;


She has the perfect body to cut open.

Stein's fingers ghost over the pale plane of her stomach, brushing the warm flesh and watching with the awe only a surgeon can feel as goosebumps rise in their wake. The doctor balances his face on the cup of his palm as he studies the girl - woman, his mind corrects, from some distant section in the back of his skull. Yes, a young woman; she had grown before him, had filled out the lines he had seen when they had first met. No longer was she just a shell, for that is what all children were, at least in his eyes - capsules for the people they would be as time developed inside of them. She is taller and filled out, blonde hair curling nearly to the pale dents of her elbows. Stein wraps a slender pinky around a stray, silky strand.

He could just imagine what she looked like on the inside. It was true that everyone's blood was red, no matter the appearance on the outside - but, somehow, the hue was always different. The texture, the smell, the variation of red; it was all unique from person to person, and he was sure - no, he _knew_ that hers would be a beautiful shade, a gorgeous crimson waterfall as it flooded over his fingers.

Stein's hands twitch over her stomach, saffron eyes shifting to focus on the dip of her bellybutton. Human skin was just paper. She would be so easy to slice open; the skin would breathe apart at the aid of a simple scalpel. Abandoning her hair, he slips his fingers down to her navel, circling it slowly. The raising and falling of her chest distracts him briefly, watching the sweet repetition, the soft, slow function of living that humans perform so unconsciously. Stein wonders if anyone takes even a moment to appreciate the simplicity, the beauty - if anyone stops to consider the blueprints all humans were built on like he did. Did anyone want to know how such beautiful things were constructed?

He knew that he was not the first, nor the last, to wonder what bodies looked like from the inside. Stein knew what it was like to want to move backward, to disassemble something and switch things around and see what worked. Curiosity, that is all it really was - an underlining sense of _what if I put this here and this there, then what?_

Stein's lips flicker at the corners, tugging upward. Her body was a field of exploration, a wonderland of science and questions and answers and all he had to do, all that had to be done was sink the tiniest tip of the smallest knife he had and see the very bones that his fingers were tracing. He could compare her ivory ribs to the sheets she was laying on, could pluck out each organ and admire all of the tissues and cells that made her up - he could see how she operated internally. He imagines what it would all look like in the shards of sunlight filtering sideways through the windows. Stein's tongue drags across his lower lip as he leans down, neck tilting so his lips can brush over the warm husk of her body. It was simply a cocoon for the beauty that dwelled within her.

The doctor had pulled things apart before and he would swear on God that he could somehow feel their souls ringed around their insides, swimming in their blood. And to feel it between his fingers, to smear it on the sheets and on his labcoat, to see her for everything she was and everything that made her up - the desire twisted in his own chest, in the cavity he had already torn open and sewed shut, the incredible urge to peel back her shell and see the pearls inside. His lips coast over her stomach, cool breath raising small hairs to attention and watching, mesmerized as a trail of them follow his mouth. Smirking, the surgeon lowers, his lips crawling over narrow hipbones.

She trembles beneath her, and the way bodies react to such stimulation is fascinating. His smile broadens as his tongue slips between the walls of his lips to taste her skin. There is always that tinge of salt to flesh, but hers also tastes like question marks and the blade of his surgery utensils. It is almost like her body is speaking to him, unconsciously giving a green light, whispering against his mouth, _go on, do it. _He wonders what kind of flavor her essence would hold; what her soul would taste like.

The silver wisps of his hair drag along her skin, tickling her, and he feels her shiver again, waves pulsing down her torso. It would be brilliant, a beautiful performance of shedding this shell and working within her, touching parts of her that were never meant to be touched. The hand not propping up his head joins the ascent, following the road of her waist as his lips trail between the valley of her breasts, hovering over her sternum. She stirs beneath him, a slight ripple in the lake of her dreamland and Stein's eyes close, listening.

_Ba-bump, ba-bump._

It is music. Drums. He wonders what the cavities of her heart look like, hollow and still, and if it feels as strong as it sounds under the shields of her ribcage. His eyes open again, following the curve of her throat and up to her chin. Her blush-pink lips are slightly parted, soft breaths smoothing out of the sacks of her lungs. His mouth shifts to the slope of her collarbone, imagining the sound it would make if he were to snap it off of her skeleton. Stein's body gives a shiver of its own. Stimulation. The way a body reacts, it is almost distracting.

Her plump jugular beats against his mouth. Stein's tongue slips out again, testing the vein and feeling it rush up to meet him. All of that sweet blood, the arteries, the bones and muscles and tendons and ligaments were only a cut away, a snip, a poke ...

The language of her body shifts. Stein's body freezes, rigid stone as he closes his eyes and listens to the transition between sleep and consciousness. It is subtle, a soft flick of a switch within the cranium, a spark within the brain. He wonders what hers looks like split open, gray matter molding under his fingers; he wonders if he could really understand the way she thought by slicing at the most precious of organs.

"Good morning."

The arm still draped over her torso swoops into motion again, the tips of his fingers sliding up the length of her torso. His head turns, lips previously resting on her neck now falling just below her ear. The doctor gives a soft sigh, fingers gliding into the threads of smoky hair. The pressure of a soft kiss is barely left behind as he pulls his head back, just far enough for his amber gaze to lock within the traps of forest green. She's smiling, her sleepy hands raising to touch his neck, a small thumb brushing against his jawbone.

Stein smiles back at her, his hand lifting to touch her chin. "Morning," he mumbles, and then he kisses her, raw from sleep, unknowing of the thoughts he was having as he examined her body just moments before. And it would be so easy to take her, to break her open and steal the jewels that lived in the chest of her body, but, as a scientist, he knew that there were some questions that didn't have answers, some that couldn't be answered, and some that _shouldn't_ be answered.

Franken Stein liked Maka Albarn much better when she tasted like question marks, anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Creeper Stein creeping on a sleeping Maka._

_...Creepy._

_It's short and weird but it would not leave me alone, so I had to get it out. Hope you enjoyed it!_

_Reviews would be lovely. Like raspberry tea._


End file.
